Claymore: SEX AND SLAYING
by KaoruAoiShiho
Summary: The 'bad things' Flora and Veronica did, why they were sent to Pieta, hint: the title, also potentially AU continuation where they survive Pieta, maybe.


A few months before the battle of Pieta.

Orsay carefully allows his cloak to wrap about him, pulling it tight about his collar, and with a tug, lifts his hood above his head.

Only then does he step out into the din of Ahmanin. His face is obscured by shadow even in the bright southern sun. His conspicuous black figure walks not toward the town market, where a gaggle of youngsters are rushing, but toward his familiar vantage point, the hall situated on the tallest hill in town.

In the marketplace below, two youma flank Orsay's prized warrior. A youma corpse already lies on the ground.

POOMF, POOMF. Orsay clutches his hood. Two explosive gusts of wind sweep the onlookers, and the two youma topple where they stood.

Outside of the crowd, a lone figure is running west, toward the forest on the outskirts of town. How long will it take for Flora to notice this one, he wonders.

Flora casually pushes through the crowd. "A man dressed in black will come soon. Give the payment to him then." A young man whistles appreciatively at her surprisingly beautiful voice.

She heads west, walking, and even with just that small amount of exertion quickly overtakes the youma at the edge of the forest and splits it from head to torso. Without stopping, Flora continues into the forest.

It's evening when Orsay finally catches her. The campfire is lit. The Claymore has doffed her armor and is leaning back against her sword.

"What is next." Flora says with her most unexpressive tone.

"You sound bored, number eight. Would you like something more interesting?"

"I'm not bored. But... Do you have an Awakened hunt for me?"

"Do you miss seeing other warriors? It must be my face is getting too familiar for you."

Even with the sun set and the only person in the vicinity being his favorite (current) protégé, Orsay retains his cloak and hood. Flora stands and comes uncomfortably close. She turns away.

"I heard that Ophelia has perfected her new technique, I wonder what it is." She puts her hand on the sword. "I hope it's not faster than the Windcutter, that would be disappointing."

"I've not heard about it. I can't give you Orphelia, but... I can give you Veronica." Orsay lifts Flora's hand from atop her sword, and places something in it.

"This is?!"

It's not a black card, but a regular letter.

"This is an execution order for number thirteen. She killed a human." Orsay says bluntly.

"Veronica killed a human? That is..." Flora is studiously looking at the letter in her hand, but her voice is surprised.

"This should not be difficult for a single digit. You were always much better than her."

"I don't understand why they want me to do this. Surely she did not request me..."

"Probably no reason other than proximity. You know how it works, scheduling."

Three from Flora's class matriculated into being full blown warriors. Orphelia, Flora herself, and Veronica. Orphelia was always somewhat of a prodigy. She did things in her own way, with no consideration for others. She was the type of girl who cared only to satisfy her immediate urges. In the final graduation test, where a group of ten trainees were split into two teams of five and were told to kill each other, Flora felt very very thankful that she was on the same team as Orphelia. That out of control girl immediately fell on the other team, which routed straight away.

It was only after Flora defeated the youma, which was the real test, did she find Orphelia, standing in a puddle of blood surrounded by five bodies.

"I did all the work once again." Orphelia said with a laugh.

Flora's glare then was ice cold, and even Orphelia felt disquiet from that sinister aura.

It was a big surprise when the two finally returned to the trainer to be told that three had passed. They turned around to see Veronica struggling up the hill after them.

"I thought I killed you," Orphelia blurted out.

"That's what I wanted you to think," Veronica had the tenacity to joke.

It does not come as a surprise that Orphelia is now number four, and that the quietly competent Veronica had made it to number thirteen. Flora had not seen either of them since that day. They were not friends.

The order had said to find Veronica near the town of Gesgea, and indeed, once there the humans had only been too happy to say that the murderess was last seen heading into the woods nearby.

It is now dark, but Flora presses into the woods regardless. She does not need light to find her prey, the youki in front of her is bright enough.

Veronica is waiting when Flora steps into the big clearing, fully dressed in the organization's standard battle suit. The stars are out, and that is their only light.

"A ponytail, you didn't have that when you were a trainee. It looks good on you."

"Flora..."

"Do you have any last words number thirteen?"

"Please wait Flora, we were friends weren't we? The organization is making a mistake."

"It is not me you have to give your excuses to. I am not the judge, merely the executioner." Her high pitched voice sounds incongruous with the seriousness of her statement. Her right hand rises to touch the hilt of her sword, a motion not missed by Veronica.

"The Organization got you too huh? Brainwashed into a little doll."

"It doesn't sound like it was an accident, the townspeople were screaming murder. Not that accidents can be excused either. But no matter how unjust the organization can be, killing is unforgivable. Surrender Veronica, so this can end painlessly."

"Heh, you may be a single digit, but it has been a long time since someone cared to give me an evaluation. I've been getting better out of sight."

"In that case I must profess a fondness for this type of evaluation too."

Veronica charges with impressive speed and agility, her sword extends to thrust. Flora looks like she is unmoving, and with a sudden gust of wind Veronica merely bounces off of her.

But it is not true of course, Flora's sword gains incredible acceleration as it blazes out of her sheath, renders a barely blocked cut before it flies back into sheath, only seemingly appear again in the worst possible place.

Veronica quickly turns and attacks from the left. But to no avail, she is blocked there too. Again and again Veronica attacks from various angles, and it is only with her fast agility and Flora's seeming disinclination to move from her spot that she is able to dance back out of the reach of the seemingly invisible sword within the furious wind.

"So that's the Windcutter..." Veronica mutters, moving back. Fear now grips her. As far as she could tell by the starlight, Flora appears the exact same as she did a few minutes before, her hand still rests on her sword hilt, her feet still affixed in those exact positions, and not a hair on her head misplaced. The only different is the ring of soil around her, where the grass had been blown away by the force of her sword.

When Veronica had first heard of the Windcutter she was not very impressed by its description. A sword so fast that it can cut wind? Was that all that was required to be a single digit? But oh, how horribly wrong she was. The Windcutter is a virtually impenetrable fortress, and would be, she is sure, an unstoppable tornado of destruction on the offense. Looking in to those frosty, uncompassionate, silver eyes, Veronica cannot help but feel the loss of all hope and acknowledge total defeat.

Flora walks forward wordlessly. Despite her earlier bravado, killing a comrade is still something she doesn't want to do. A part of her is screaming at her, telling her that it's all wrong. That the woman standing in front of her is her sister, that together they have survived the youma implantations, and the grueling harshness of training. Why is a human life valued over that of a brethren anyway. To hell with humanity, if there was any group worth having allegiance to, it is to those half-human half-youma like her.

Why did it have to be Veronica, why couldn't it have been some warrior I've never met before!

Flora picks up the pace of her advance. Her sole wish now is to get this over with. She fears, with all her heart, that some accident would occur that would force her to listen to Veronica's 'explanations', and would cause her to lose the gumption to do what's required. She wishes that Veronica would attack her, rather than stand stupidly like a caught pony about to be broken.

Her faces betrays none of this, and maintains her preferred expression, that of the paradigm of seriousness and maturity.

She stops a mere feet in front of her adversary, who by this time had sunk to her knees. "This time I'll make sure you're dead," she says, more to steel her own heart than as any deliberate act of cruelty.

And then that exact thing which she feared most happens. Suddenly standing between Flora and Veronica is a petite, unarmored figure. Her long, straight, black hair flanked a breathtakingly beautiful face. It was just like the hair that Flora had wanted when she was younger.

The young girl's beauty gave Flora pause. But in the next moment she regains herself and flings the stupid waif aside.

Then somehow, somehow, as the sword is leaving the sheath the girl again appears in that unhappy spot. It is only by a miracle that Flora manages to redirect her swing and avoids cleaving that dainty head in half. The leaves rustles with the draft of the speedy technique.

"Epona!?"

This time the girl clings to Flora's sword arm. "Please! Please! Don't! Veronica is innocent!" She cries hysterically.

Flora sets her mouth, and grabs the girl's collar, and pulls to tear her off. And she screams. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" It is a piercing high pitched cry, one of excruciating pain. But her death grip holds. Flora dares not proceed, it almost looks like she'll tear the girl's arms right off.

Flora changes tactics and punches the girl right in the stomach, intending to wind her. Oops. The girl's chemise tears with the violent treatment and falls in tatters.

"Please believe me." She cries and coughs. "Not Veronica, she's innocent! Framed! It's that bitch Orphelia! Please, you have to believe me."

"What do you think you know about the organization?" Flora responds immediately. "Be quiet and let me go."

She stares at the shivering, quaking body. It is exquisite, small, and fine. So very unlike a warrior. And her tear filled eyes, it is enough to evoke emotion even in a youma. Flora is thus not at all prepared when the girl lifted herself and plants her lips upon that of the warrior, her hungry little tongue sweeping her lips and thrusting itself inside Flora's surprised mouth.

"Please…" Her lips trembles and quavers against Flora's. It is like nothing Flora has ever felt before…

TBC


End file.
